For King and Country
by NiffAreForever
Summary: Best friends, Nick and Jeff, have been thrown headfirst into the front line of a battle that is not just for their king and country, but also for their own freedom and future. A knight!Niff AU prompt from Kiwi
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, this is a prompt given to me by ****_Kiwi_**** from a competition on my story ****_Second Star to the Right_**** :) It's Niff as knights, basically, and ****_Kiwi_****, I hope this is what you wanted, because I did get a little lost in all the Niff fluff in here... :)**

**I'm just going to point this out here, it is Niff as knights, however, there's no violence because I can't write good fight sequences, but there are mentions of homophobia and death just because this is set in the 13th century - just a warning.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**

* * *

The name of Sterling had always been a proud one, associated with the many kings of the past centuries, and influential to some of the greatest decisions made for the kingdom. Therefore, it was no great surprise when the eldest son of the latest generation was proclaimed the High Constable of the king's army.

Sir Jeffrey Sterling was lucky to have secured this role, the prestige of his family helping to raise him to great heights, despite the fact that he had only been serving in the army previously for a few years. His father was understandably extremely pleased with his son's achievement, something which Jeff was glad about, since he'd never succeeded in pleasing his father beforehand; he'd always done something wrong or not lived up to expectations.

Yet when the news of his position reached his family's estate, his father had clapped him on the back, loudly declaring:

"You may actually one day be fit to take the family title now!"

Jeff had given his father a weak smile, before excusing himself hurriedly. He'd probably earned himself a derogatory comment for leaving as he did, but he wasn't exactly in the mood to just wait around while he received disguised insults from his father.

Instead he planned on disappearing to do something that he knew always displeased his father greatly.

He went to see his best friend, Nicholas Duval, the son of the local lord.

Nick's father was one of Jeff's father's subordinates and he looked after many of the Sterlings' farms and the workers who lived on them.

Unfortunately, Jeff spent most of his time in the company of Nick, and therefore, his father resented this, since it appeared as though Jeff was neglecting his duties as the heir to the family title. In fact, many a time had he announced that the Duval boy was good for nothing except making Jeff extremely lazy, and that Jeff would do well to minimise the contact he had with him.

The only reason that Jeff's father had not completely ceased all connections Jeff had to Nick was that Nick's father was extremely good at maximising the farms' profits and minimising labouring costs, and if there was anything that Jeff's father cared about more than his family's reputation, it was money.

And so, Jeff had continued to see Nick, more so than before, even if just to spite his father.

* * *

Except now every thing was different, wasn't it?

Jeff wasn't sitting in his nice, comfortable castle, nor was he relaxing in the sunshine on the banks of the brook that ran through his family's estate anymore. No, he was perched on top of an upturned barrel, attempting to clean the mud from his sword. He'd had the misfortune to let it slip from his grasp as he dismounted his horse earlier, and it had landed in what he'd later concluded to be possibly the muddiest puddle he'd ever seen; but then again, when he considered it, the entire field was actually a giant dirty swamp.

Just where he wanted to set up the camp for the army. Not. But it wasn't as though he'd had much choice, he had his orders and he had to follow them.

"You could have your squire do that, you know?" a voice interrupted his chores.

Jeff looked up and saw his best friend standing in front of him.

At the declaration that there would be a war, all the liege lords of the land had been ordered to produce an army for the king's usage; Nick Duval had been sent by his father with a retinue of five hundred soldiers to serve His Majesty. He'd been lucky to find himself under the command of Jeff, and his friend had immediately taken him under his wing to guide him.

Nick knew nothing about fighting, nor did he particularly want to, but he had a fierce sense of patriotism, and if he was doing this for King and country, then he was satisfied.

Jeff, on the other hand, had been so pleased by Nick's enthusiasm for learning and his quick grasp of army life, that he was considering formally declaring Nick as his second-in-command; since he'd been informally referring to him as this for a long time already.

"I know," the blonde replied, smiling at his brunette friend, "But David has enough already to deal with." They both cast a glance over at Jeff's squire, who was wrestling with what appeared to be a sack of potatoes.

"Why is he doing that?" Nick inquired, narrowing his eyes in confusion, as a nearby servant practically squawked something intelligible at David, who'd almost dropped the potatoes in the mud.

"He's trying to be helpful," Jeff laughed, as the servant snatched the sack from David's grasp and hurried away. "I don't see your squire anywhere."

Nick grinned.

"Trent is trying to find the least muddy patch of field to pitch the tent for him and David," he explained, "He says he's not best pleased with your choice of place for the camp."

"I'm afraid my orders were to set up camp here," Jeff said, "Not even Trent's fear of dirt can change them!"

"I wouldn't say that he has a fear of dirt," Nick corrected, "Just a deep dislike of it."

"Remind me why he came along in the first place?"

"He's the best squire in the entire country, and you know it!"

Jeff scoffed.

"That achievement goes to David, thank you very much!"

It was Nick's turn to scoff disbelievingly.

"He can't even handle a sack of potatoes," he pointed out, "I wouldn't trust him with my armour."

"Luckily for you, you don't have to," Jeff smiled, "You have Trent, who may not even turn up tomorrow morning because he's been stranded in the tent due to the surrounding mud."

There was a sudden silence between the old friends, as Nick looked down at the ground and kicked at the ground a little.

"It's tomorrow, isn't it?" he said in a hoarse whisper.

Jeff nodded sadly.

"That's the plan, anyway," he said.

"Once His Majesty arrives, I guess we'll get the order to go ahead?" Nick asked.

"He'll want to discuss tactics and finalise everything," Jeff replied, "And then we just have to prepare ourselves."

There was another moment of silence between them.

"How many more men is he bringing, Jeff?" Nick asked finally.

"I honestly don't know," Jeff said, "But I fear that it will be too few, no matter how many troops he can raise. We have only a little over ten thousand here."

"The enemy are well over twenty thousand, aren't they?" Nick said quietly, watching as Jeff nodded resignedly.

"I just hope the king can see the sense in waiting for the rest of the men to arrive," the blonde said, "We have enough supplies to last an army double the size of ours for at least a week."

It was true, they'd set off marching with as many rations as the farmers could provide them with, and it was enough to sustain them for a while if they had to lay siege to a castle, or just to wait for their enemies on the battlefield. And as they marched, more and more farmers gave them supplies to prepare them. Jeff wanted to utilise this advantage that they had, the enemy were unlikely to have been given any gifts of extra rations by any local farmers.

"I suppose we can't decide anything until His Majesty arrives, can we?" Nick cut into Jeff's thoughts.

"No, we can't," Jeff said, "All we can do is make sure that the camp is set up and ready for the king's arrival; and we'd better organise patrol duty to keep an eye out for enemy scouts."

Nick nodded dutifully.

"The camp is almost completely seen to," he said, "I put up our tent myself. As for patrols, I will ask Wes if he will see to that."

"You didn't have to put up the tent by yourself," Jeff said, "I could have helped you."

Nick smiled, and patted Jeff's shoulder.

"It was no trouble," he said, "I didn't want to bother you; you have much bigger things to worry about."

"You're the best, Nicky," Jeff replied, grinning gratefully at his friend.

Nick beamed at the old nickname, before patting Jeff's shoulder once more, and then hurrying off to find Wes.

Jeff watched the brunette's retreating figure, and once he was out of sight, he gazed around the camp instead.

There were neat rows of tents spreading in every direction and almost as far as the eye could see. Usually, they would have found a castle to pitch their camp within, but there was not even the most dilapidated or run down pile of walls to be seen for miles; just fields, fields and more fields.

Each tent could house up to four soldiers, though, granted, there was not much room for each man, and the troops tended to avoid staying inside unless it was absolutely necessary; Jeff didn't blame them!

Fortunately, Jeff himself had been spared from this overcrowding, as commanding officer, he'd been given a tent that was slightly larger than many others, and had been told that he only had to have one person to share it with. It hadn't taken him long to decide to share with Nick; the brunette was his best friend after all.

But was there something more to it? Jeff would never admit it to anyone, but he loved being so close to Nick, and since sharing a tent was as close as he was going to get to intimacy, then he wasn't going to decline his chance. He'd found himself, a couple of times, watching the brunette as he slept; he always looked so calm and peaceful, and when a strand of hair fell in his eyes, Jeff had to resist the urge to push it away. And then there were the times that Nick smiled, which was particularly often, since he always appeared to be happy about something; his grin and laughter would light up any room, and Jeff physically had to hold himself back from wiping the silly smile off the other boy's face by kissing him.

Jeff shook himself free of his fantasies. He shouldn't have even been entertaining these thoughts, let alone almost letting them play out in real life. It was a crime to love another man, he knew that, it was punishable by death and he doubted he'd even get a fair trial; the outcome would already be decided before he'd set foot in the court room.

But could he continue with his life, knowing that it was painful for him to have to regard Nick as only a friend? He was sure that the only way for him to be truly happy, would be for him to know that Nick loved him back, and that he'd never feel so strongly for someone as he did for the brunette.

His parents would no doubt already be discussing a suitable marriage for him; probably to some dull daughter of a similarly dull duke, who he'd never be able to love, and nor would she love him, most likely.

Jeff put his head in his hands; the more he thought about it, the less likely it seemed it would ever be possible.

* * *

Nick found Wes inside one of the tents, already sorting through the scrolls of parchment that he'd brought with him.

"Ah, Nicholas, what can I do for you?" Wes asked, knowing who was paying him a visit, even though his back was turned. Nick jumped at the sudden sound of the other man's voice, but he knew that he should have been expecting it; it was Wes after all.

Sir Wesley Montgomery was the eldest son of one of the king's most senior and most trusted advisors, and though not a soldier himself, he was a skilled tactician, and the army gladly brought him with them to in battle. He was an invaluable asset to Jeff, and the blonde swore that he was their secret weapon; he spent days at a time researching the different strategies employed by the opposing forces, and then figuring out the best way of implementing counterattacks.

He was also a very accomplished profiler of the people he met, although few knew of his talent for this, and as soon as he saw the half-dopey grin on Nick's face, he knew that he'd been sent from Jeff.

"So, I take it Jeff wanted me to do something for him?" Wes added quickly, and he watched as Nick's mouth dropped open, and then he hurriedly closed it in embarrassment.

"How did you know?" he stuttered out.

Wes laughed.

"I just did," he said, "Anyway, you two are very rarely seen apart."

"He's my best friend," Nick defended himself immediately, "Why shouldn't I spend time with him?"

"I never said that you shouldn't," Wes reassured his friend, "And anyway, I'd never be one to judge your choices in life."

Nick gulped silently in panic; did Wes know his secret? Yes, he'd been in love with Jeff for several years now, and spending almost every night in a tent with him had only heightened his feelings.

"So, what did Jeff want me to do?" Wes swiftly directed the conversation onto a different topic.

"Oh, yes," Nick said, quickly acting as though nothing had happened, "He wants you to organise shifts of guards for the camp."

Wes nodded.

"I assumed that would be needed," he said, he bent over the nearest the pile of papers, and plucked one from near the bottom. "Here, give this to Jeff. It's got all the shifts written down on it."

Nick took the paper with widened eyes.

"How did you…?"

Wes smiled mysteriously.

"It was obvious," he said, before he turned back around and went back to rifling through his belongings.

Nick shook his head in wonderment, and then went to give the list of shifts over to Jeff.

* * *

The king's arrival was heralded by a great cry from one of the sentries situated on the dirt track that led into the field, and a messenger was sent to fetch Jeff at the king's immediate request.

King Edward was already setting up his own council within the largest tent on the field when Jeff reached him, and with the flag flying outside, he was like a shining beacon in the midst of the gloom and despair of the impending slaughter. But while he should have been a sight of reassurance for the troops, he did nothing to settle Jeff's nerves.

"Ah, Sir Sterling," the king greeted Jeff as he pushed open the flap of the tent and entered.

"Your Grace," Jeff bowed dutifully, and kissed the offered ring on the king's finger. "You wished to see me?"

"I did," the king said, "Please take a seat."

Jeff pulled up a rather roughly cobbled together makeshift chair and sat opposite King Edward, wondering what sort of plans the king would want to employ for the forthcoming battle.

"I have brought with me a further five thousand men," the king began, "It was the largest amount that I could muster at short notice."

Jeff sighed, he'd been hoping for a lot more; enough to make it to twenty thousand troops at least.

"They have more than us, Your Majesty," he said, "Many more than us. Scouts say it is at least twenty thousand, perhaps more."

"I'm afraid that I cannot raise any more men by tomorrow," the king pointed out, "We shall have to make do with what we have."

"But what if we waited?" Jeff suggested, "We could gather the extra men we need and attack in a few days."

The king frowned.

"Are you saying that we should just sit here?" he asked.

"We have enough supplies," Jeff argued, "And the enemy are unlikely to initiate the first offensive. We could sit here all week and they would not trouble us."

"No," the king shook his head, "We must attack tomorrow. I will not have us waiting around here for as long as it takes to find more men. In the waiting time, men may leave us, or we may find no more troops, and we will have wasted precious time."

"Surely it couldn't hurt to postpone until at least the day after tomorrow?" Jeff insisted, but the king was adamant.

"I trust your judgement, Sterling," he said, "For a young man, you are very knowledgeable about many topics, but in this case, I shall have to decline to agree with your suggestions."

"But…" Jeff protested.

"You have never fought a proper battle before," King Edward said, "I have, and I shall have to take council at this point from those with more experience."

"Your Grace, I can…"

"Sterling, I believe in you to lead the troops tomorrow," the king reassured him, "But you must follow my orders and the tactics that I decide to implement."

Jeff wanted to argue further, but he could see that his efforts were in vain, and as his heart sank, he nodded sadly.

"Of course, Your Grace," he said finally.

The king accepted his agreement, and they continued to talk about positions and tactics for another hour or so. At one point, they called upon Wes to deliver the ideas he had about the best way to counter the possible attacks from the enemy, and decided on which troops would be well suited to each type of combat.

Eventually, the king was satisfied, and the camp was given permission to retire for the night.

* * *

Jeff found Nick hovering outside the king's tent, obviously waiting for him to emerge.

"So, how did the meeting go?" Nick asked immediately, "What decisions did you make?"

Jeff had been anticipating his best friend's question before it had even been spoken, and he'd already prepared his answer.

"It was fine. I just want to get back to the tent. As for decisions, you'll be with me tomorrow."

Nick's face lit up when he heard that he would be staying with Jeff's troops for the battle, but he quickly concealed his joy so that Jeff wouldn't notice it; not that he believed he would, for his best friend appeared to be distracted by something. At first, he put Jeff's short response down to nerves, but Jeff had never really been one to get nervous, or at least, he never seemed to show it.

They walked side by side in silence to their tent, and only after settling into the still rather cramped space, did either man speak again.

"Nick, what did you want to do once this is over?" Jeff asked suddenly, turning to his friend, who was rather surprised by the question.

"I guess I'll just go back to helping my father manage the farms," Nick answered, "It's not exactly thrilling, but there's not much else for me to do."

"But what about in the future?" Jeff persisted, "What do you want to do in a few years?"

Nick frowned, Jeff was definitely acting strangely.

"I guess I might have taken over my family title from my father," he said, "And so I'll still be managing the farms."

Jeff sighed.

"But what would you really like to do?" he persisted, "If you could choose any life for yourself, what would you choose?"

That question stumped Nick completely; he'd always thought that his life would be so simple and straightforward that he hadn't thought about what he might have wanted for himself.

"I don't know," he stumbled over his reply, "I'd want to travel, I think, and maybe go to court and see the king there. And I'd want to spend time with you, Jeff, you could travel with me."

Jeff smiled weakly.

"Say, Jeff, what do you want to do in the future?" Nick shot the question back at his friend.

Jeff paused for thought.

"I'd like to prove my father wrong," he decided eventually, "I'd like to show him that I am worthy of taking the family name and reputation after him." Jeff shook his head in defeat. "It won't happen though," he added.

"Why not?" Nick asked, "Jeff, you're more than capable of proving your worth to your father, not that you should even have to, because he's barely half the man that you are. Once this is over…"

"Nick, this won't ever be over!" Jeff interrupted sharply, stunning Nick into immediate silence. "Sorry," the blonde muttered quickly.

"Jeff?" Nick asked nervously, "What do you mean that it won't ever be over?"

Jeff mentally kicked himself. He'd terrified his best friend; he'd terrified _Nick_, who was always so innocent about the ways of the world, yet now was being thrust into the middle of a battle.

"I…I…" Jeff choked on his own words, the heartbroken look on Nick's face was enough to make tears prick in his eyes.

"Jeff?" Nick repeated.

"Nicky," Jeff reached out and took the other boy's hands, "I didn't want to have to tell you this, but we have only around fifteen thousand men, the enemy have twenty thousand at least." He paused. "Nicky, tomorrow will turn into a slaughter, I just know it, and I don't know what to do about it."

"Oh, Jeffy," Nick said, sounding close to breaking down in tears, "Didn't you tell the king this when you spoke to him?"

Jeff nodded.

"He said I didn't have enough battle experience for him to take my council," he explained, "He wants to go ahead tomorrow instead of waiting to raise more troops."

Nick didn't answer; he was too busy trying to clear the mess that his mind had become in the last few minutes. He had possibly one night left on Earth, what did he want to do more than anything in the world?

Tell Jeff how he felt.

No, he couldn't just blurt that out; the shadow of the penalty of death hung over him if he did that. But wasn't death already hanging over him? If he confessed to Jeff, and Jeff reported him, he'd die that night, instead of the next day; was there much of a difference? On the other hand, they might just spare him if they knew that he'd die the next day, he'd be an extra body to fight, and he'd also fulfil his punishment at the same time.

All in all, he didn't have much to lose.

It was now or never.

Jeff was still staring at Nick, waiting for his response to the devastating news, and Nick just looked him straight in the eyes, losing himself in them easily. Without hesitating, the brunette leant in closer and closer to Jeff, until he could feel his friend's warm breath on his own lips. He paused to let Jeff pull away if he wanted to, but the blonde appeared frozen in position, his eyes locked on Nick's mouth.

Nick let all his doubts flood away, and he pressed his lips against Jeff's own. Jeff's eyes widened in shock; he'd been dreaming of this moment for years. And after recovering himself, he began to kiss back.

Eventually, they had to break away to breathe, and Jeff just stared at his best friend in shock, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.

Nick gave the blonde a small smile.

"I figured that since we might die tomorrow, I might as well tell you how I feel." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "And if the kiss didn't already explain it to you, then, Jeff Sterling, I'm madly in love with you and have been for several years."

Jeff opened and closed his mouth silently a few times. He couldn't believe what he was hearing; the person he'd been in love with for years was in love with him as well! What was he supposed to say?

"I love you."

It was all he could say without completely choking on his own words, but it seem to work, for, within seconds, Nick had thrown himself forward and attached their lips again. Jeff reached out and wrapped his hands around Nick's waist, pulling the other boy closer to him, while Nick's own hands tangled themselves in Jeff's hair.

"I'd like to see my father's face if he knew about this," Jeff muttered suddenly, smiling to himself at the thought.

Nick slapped the blonde's arm lightly.

"Don't ruin this with thoughts of your father," he said, "This is just about us now."

Jeff smiled.

"Yes, just us," he repeated.

Nick grinned and ducked his head down so that he could press kisses along Jeff's jawline, and down towards his collarbone. Jeff actually giggled and squirmed beneath him.

"That tickles," he said, "It's a nice tickle though, you know, I'm not complaining, but…"

Nick laughed and kissed him again.

"You're talking too much," he said, and Jeff just smiled up at him.

It was nice, Jeff decided, to see Nick taking charge for once. The brunette had always been much quieter than Jeff had ever been, and since, in society, Jeff's position was higher, he'd been the natural leader out of the two of them. Yet now Jeff was more than happy to be completely compliant with Nick's wishes, and let him do whatever he wanted to him.

It was during one of their more heated kisses that the tent flap was thrown back, and a rather smug voice interrupted them.

"I just knew you two were sleeping together."

Sebastian Smythe.

He was possibly the most powerful man on the battlefield, rivalled only by the king himself. Sebastian's family was even more prestigious than Jeff's and twice as ambitious, which Jeff had not believed possible at first.

Jeff's eyes flew open in panic, and Nick tried to detach himself from his friend, only to discover that Jeff's arms were locked around him, and they were so tangled in each other that when he tried to move away, Jeff ended up face first in his lap.

"Sorry," Jeff muttered hurriedly, sitting up and looking rather red-faced with embarrassment. Nick looked too startled to speak.

Sebastian, meanwhile, was doubled over with laughter.

"This has made my day," he cried, "Truly, it has!"

Jeff narrowed his eyes.

"You can't tell anyone about this," he said, trying to sound calm, but inside his heart was pounding, telling everyone about it would be exactly the sort of thing a Smythe would do.

Sebastian laughed a little while longer.

"Your secret's safe with me," he promised, before coming further into the tent and dropping his voice confidentially. "If truth be told, I'm in love with one of the other soldiers." He looked mildly disappointed with himself at this admission. "It's hopeless really, and I'm a right fool to even entertain the thought of him loving me back."

"You never know," Jeff pointed out, "Are you sure there's no hope?"

Sebastian sighed.

"I've dropped plenty of hints," he said, "But none of them seem to work, he's either completely oblivious or not interested."

"Can we know who he is?" Jeff asked with a cheeky grin.

Sebastian glared at him.

"No, work it out yourself," he said, "I'm not so obvious with who I like as you are."

"If you meant earlier," Jeff blushed, "You walked in on that, it's not our fault." Beside him, Nick blushed, having retreated back into being his more reserved self.

"It wasn't just earlier!" Sebastian cried, "I've known that you'd been sleeping together for ages now!"

Jeff joined Nick in turning a bright shade of red.

"I assure you, Sebastian," he said, "We have not been sleeping together for ages."

Sebastian scoffed.

"Seriously? How slow are you, Sterling? There's a possibility that we might not all come out of tomorrow alive, and you haven't slept with him yet? I'm surprised."

"Sebastian!" Jeff shushed him quickly, "Will you stop it?" He glanced down at Nick, who'd suddenly become highly interested in a fraying hem on his tunic.

"Well, sorry for pointing that out for you," Sebastian said indignantly, "I was just trying to help." He paused. "But do consider my suggestion," he winked.

Jeff glared at him until he turned to leave.

As soon as the other man was out of the tent, Jeff turned to Nick, instinctively leaning in to kiss him.

"Oh, and I forgot to say," Sebastian's voice called back, "We're all waiting for you; we've got a fire going, and we want you to come and sit with us. You wouldn't want anyone to come looking for you, would you?"

Jeff groaned as Sebastian laughter drifted off into the distance.

"Come on," the blonde got up and gave Nick a hand out of the tent, "I suppose we'd better go and join them."

Nick nodded, falling into step beside his best friend.

"I really want to hold your hand right now," the brunette muttered under his breath.

"I know what you mean," Jeff replied, "I want to hold you close all the time."

"It is cold out here," Nick agreed.

Jeff laughed.

"I didn't mean it because of that," he smiled, "But now that you mention it, you are nice and warm, and it is freezing outside."

"Does this mean that we can go with the pretence that we're huddling for warmth then?" Nick asked with a hopeful smile.

Jeff looked down at him.

"They've got a fire going," he pointed out, and Nick's face fell. "But I suppose we could try," he added hastily, and Nick grinned.

* * *

"There you are," Wes said, looking up at them as they perched themselves on the nearest log and warmed themselves by the fire. "We thought you might not be coming."

Jeff flashed his friend a smile.

"Sorry about that," he said, "We were just talking about something."

"Of course," Wes smiled back, and Jeff got the distinct impression that he didn't believe Jeff's cover up and that he'd already guessed correctly at the truth.

Across the circle of logs around the fire, Sebastian, seated between Thad and Hunter, smirked to himself.

"Well, I propose a toast to tomorrow's battle," Hunter said, as Nick and Jeff were both handed mugs of ale and everyone else raised their own.

"To victory," came the chorus of voices.

"For king and country," Jeff said.

"For king and country!" Everyone cheered and then drank simultaneously.

As they sat laughing and joking in the firelight, Jeff cast his gaze around the circle of people in front of him; the men that he would be leading into battle the next day.

On his right sat Wes and David, who were deep in a conversation, though they were talking so quietly that Jeff could not grasp which topic they were discussing. Next to David sat Trent, who was half listening to what Wes was currently saying, but was also half distracted by the extraordinary amount of mud that he seemed to have accumulated on his boots; for someone who disliked dirt so much, he appeared to be covered in more of it than anyone else.

Then there was Thad, Sebastian and Hunter, the three of them laughing at a joke that Sebastian had just cracked. Thad Harwood was the only member of their company to not come from a noble family, for even the squires had fathers who had been knights previously, but nobody treated him any differently to anyone else. Thad was probably the most successful archer that the king's army had; well, that was in Jeff opinion, anyway, and he knew that many people agreed with him. Sir Hunter Clarington was the eldest son of Earl Clarington and one of the most accomplished soldiers within Jeff's troops. In fact, he had more years of military experience than Jeff himself, and had seemed a likely candidate for the position of High Constable before it had been awarded to Jeff. Fortunately, Hunter had never begrudged Jeff for this, claiming that he probably wouldn't want the responsibility anyway, and offering his help to Jeff whenever he might need it.

On Hunter's other side sat his squire, Blaine Anderson, who was listening intently to Sebastian's squire, Kurt Hummel, talk rather animatedly about the newest fashion of surcoat that they were now wearing in France. The Smythes had a habit of travelling everywhere and then telling everyone about where they'd been, and clearly their recent trip to Paris had influenced their young squire quite a bit.

And then, last but most definitely not least, sat Nick, leaning ever so slightly in towards Jeff, his arm resting as close to the blonde's thigh without actually touching. Jeff, meanwhile, had his own arm surreptitiously around Nick, using the pretence that he was keeping himself balanced on the log by holding onto it behind the brunette; if anyone noticed, though, they kept it to themselves.

After maybe an hour or two, Nick yawned and almost fell off the log as he did so, only being held on by Jeff's arm. Jeff laughed and hoisted his friend to his feet.

"I think we're going to retire for the night," he announced, "I guess we'll see you all in the morning."

The rest of the men wished them a goodnight, before many of them began standing up and departing as well.

Just as Jeff turned around to follow Nick back to their tent, he caught sight of Sebastian winking rather suggestively at him, while Wes gave him an encouraging smile. He groaned internally; how did Wes know about him and Nick?

* * *

When Jeff caught up with Nick inside their tent, the brunette was already removing his boots and tunic ready to sleep. Jeff ducked inside and sat next to him, effectively halting his actions.

"I don't want this night to end," Jeff said suddenly, as Nick regarded him questioningly.

"You know that I don't either," he replied, "But I don't think we can do anything about it."

Jeff reached out and took Nick's hands in his own.

"I love you, Nicky, you know that," he said, "And I want to show you how much I love you tonight, so that whatever happens tomorrow, we won't regret anything."

Slowly, Nick began to smile.

"You've been thinking about what Sebastian said, haven't you?" he said, watching as Jeff blushed and nodded quickly.

"Maybe," he admitted, "It might be our last night together, Nicky."

"I know," Nick said, shuffling closer to the blonde so that he was kneeling right beside him, "Which is why I wanted to do this."

He leant forward and locked their lips together, pushing Jeff lightly on the chest until he was lying down.

"Eager, aren't we?" Jeff muttered with a grin against Nick's lips as the brunette tugged the blonde's tunic over his head and discarded it somewhere in the tent.

"I've already told you," Nick retorted, kissing Jeff again to silence him, "You talk far too much."

Jeff smiled to himself, he decided that he was going to enjoy himself very much.

* * *

It was first light when Jeff was awoken by the sounds of the servants readying food for the troops, and various squires fetching armour and horses for the nights.

There was a rather comfortable warmth on his chest, and when he looked down he discovered that it was Nick. The brunette had one arm around Jeff's waist, while the other was tucked snugly underneath him; Jeff's own arms were wrapped tightly around Nick, and their legs were tangled together.

"Morning, beautiful," Jeff whispered, as Nick started blinking rapidly at the sudden light when he opened his eyes.

Nick murmured something unintelligible and buried his face further into Jeff's chest, blushing rapidly when he realised that Jeff was shirtless.

"Where's your shirt?" he asked rather groggily, looking up the blonde who just laughed at him.

"I could ask you the same question," Jeff replied, "As well as ask you where on Earth you threw my trousers to last night."

Nick squeaked in embarrassment, and quickly sat up to search for the lost articles of clothing.

"Oh, don't get embarrassed now," Jeff said, "It's a bit late for that now."

Nick didn't reply, he just shoved Jeff's tunic and trousers into his hands and went to find his own.

Eventually, they were both dressed but neither wanted to climb out of the tent, for that would mean that they'd have to separate and find their squires for their armour.

"Do we have to leave?" Nick asked, his head tucked rather snugly into the gap between Jeff's chin and shoulder.

"Sadly, yes," Jeff said, kissing the top of the brunette's head, "I'd much rather spend all day here with you."

"Me too," Nick agreed, planting a soft kiss at the base of Jeff's neck. Jeff shivered at the contact.

"I don't want to have to say goodbye to you," he said.

"You'll never have to say goodbye to me," Nick answered, "I promise that. I'll be there riding next to you today, and after that, we'll never be apart, I swear."

"But what if there isn't an 'after that', Nicky?" Jeff asked, "What if I never get to hold you or kiss you again?"

Nick smiled ruefully.

"Then I shall see you in Heaven, my love," he said, "And we'll have forever there instead."

"Forever," Jeff kissed Nick tenderly, "I like the sound of that."

* * *

Jeff hadn't liked having to leave the tent, he'd been unsure of whether he'd ever get to hold Nick so close to him again, for although they'd be able to say goodbye later, it wouldn't be the same.

He found David waiting for him, his armour all laid out on a low table, and his horse ready for the battle.

"Thank you, David," he said, as the squire helped him into the chain mail, and then pulled his surcoat, emblazoned with his family's coat of arms in bright coloured thread, on over the top.

"You seem distracted this morning," David said, as Jeff tied his belt around his waist and slipped his sword into it.

"Just thinking about today," Jeff replied smoothly, flashing David a quick smile, "I'm fine, really."

"If you say so," David said, "But if you want to talk, then I'll always listen."

Jeff nodded gratefully.

"Thank you very much," he said, "But that won't be necessary, I'm sure."

"Of course," David smiled, "Here's your helmet." He handed the heavy object over to Jeff, and then grasped the reins of the horse and led it out into the middle of the field, where the rest of the cavalry and knights were beginning to gather.

Nick found Jeff almost immediately, Trent trailing behind him holding his own horse's reins.

"This is it then," Nick said, looking up Jeff sadly.

Jeff nodded.

"This is it," he confirmed.

Without worrying about what anyone else would say, Nick launched himself at Jeff, and wrapped his arms tightly around the taller blonde's neck.

"I love you," he said into Jeff's ear, and Jeff immediately knew that the brunette was silently crying.

"I love you too," Jeff replied instantly, his own arms wrapped tightly around Nick.

"Forever?" Nick asked tearfully.

"Forever," Jeff promised.

Eventually, the signal went for the cavalry to ready themselves, and Nick and Jeff had to break away from each other.

"I'll see you after this," Nick said earnestly, as he took his helmet from Trent and slipped it on his head, before quickly mounting his horse.

"Yes, I'll see you soon," Jeff said, desperately wanting to mean it, but he knew that fear and doubt might have been creeping into his tone. He put his own helmet on and climbed onto his horse.

He glanced down the ranks and saw Hunter and Sebastian side by side, the former nodded at him encouragingly, while the latter smirked mischievously. He looked down the field ahead of him and saw the archers already heading formation for higher ground, Thad among them somewhere. Lastly, Jeff looked beside him at Nick, who gave him a small nod and a tiny smile, before mouthing something that Jeff didn't quite catch.

However, before he could query anything, the signal came again and they were riding out to meet the enemy.

"For king and country!" rang out the battle cry across the fields.

* * *

It was a blur, a complete blur; one moment, Jeff had Nick beside him, the next the brunette had completely disappeared from sight. In a panic, Jeff turned his horse around and searched in vain for any sight of his best friend.

He never even saw it coming.

There was a dull blow to the back of his head and then he was falling.

Falling down.

Down.

All he could feel was blackness overtaking him, and just one thought passed through his head.

_Forever._

* * *

**A/N: Okay, I hope you enjoyed that :) I know that the ending probably isn't very satisfying, so, even though I am currently just leaving this as a oneshot, if you would like me to, I will add one last part as a conclusion, but only you want me to :)**

**The history in this is probably not very accurate, because this battle doesn't exist, and while I was thinking of King Edward I of England as the king in this, it doesn't have to be him. I did envision this set in13th century England, but I deliberately left it vague so that it could be anywhere.**

**Thank you for reading, and please leave me a review telling me what you thought :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: It seems that lots of people wanted a second part to this, so here it is...I hope nobody gets too upset by what is about to happen...actually, it's not too bad, so don't worry! :)**

**Warnings: Talk of death and blood**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**

* * *

"A massacre," Nick heard an infantryman mutter as he passed by him, "An absolute massacre."

The battlefield looked like a graveyard, in fact, for many, it would be their final resting place; bodies of troops from both armies littered the ground, while broken bits of armour and weapons stuck out of the mud like horrid death traps. Every so often there would be a live soldier, either grieving for his lost comrade or quickly stealing the ring off a dead man's finger before someone else got there first; it was a sickening sight.

Nick was stumbling over the ridges in the mud, occasionally tripping over outspread arms or legs as he ploughed onwards in his desperate search. He'd gone almost mad with worry when Jeff had disappeared from his side in the heat of battle, and his panic had deepened when the blonde hadn't returned to the camp once a retreat was called.

The battle itself had been a waste of time and innocent lives, neither side could count it as a victory, only as a devastating stalemate. The soldiers who were left turned on their heels and fled to safety as soon as they possibly could, the enthusiasm for the fight having left them completely.

Nick looked a mess. He'd lost his helmet somewhere earlier when he'd lost his horse; that was still a mystery to him, he thought that maybe his mare had been cut away from underneath him, but he couldn't really be sure. His sword was abandoned in the mud at the camp, it was useless to him now, and the blade was so dull that he'd have a hard time cutting butter with it. There was a blood smear down his surcoat, and a few spots of blood on his spurs, but again, he didn't think it was his, but who could say whose it actually was?

Jeff.

Thoughts of the blonde were the only things in Nick's head at that moment. He had to find him and make sure that he was safe. But the chances of that were getting slimmer and slimmer with every step that Nick took; Jeff was their commanding officer, if he'd been found, surely someone would have already raised the alarm or brought him back to camp? Nick tried to think positively; maybe Jeff was absolutely fine, but had been halted by the sight of an old friend in the mud and had stopped to either help him or hear his final words. Wait, what happened to positive thoughts?

Nick didn't even care what had happened to the rest of their friends. Actually, that sounded callous, he did care, he was just so preoccupied with his worry for Jeff, that he didn't even consider anyone else.

It seemed like hours in the blazing sun before someone stopped Nick from making a tenth circle of the field and led him back to the camp. By this point, the brunette was half delusional with exhaustion and panic so that he was barely able to walk unaided.

As he, and whoever was helping him returned to the camp, he began to hear the awful whispers that people were circulating.

"I heard that they can't find half the dead because the enemy cut them up into so many pieces," one voice said.

"They took all the bodies of our leaders back with them," said another, "And they're going to chop of the heads and display them for everyone to see."

They got worse the further into the camp they went.

Nick felt sick, and without warning he lurched to one side and emptied the contents of his stomach onto the mud.

He couldn't go on any longer in the state he was in, and he pitched headfirst into unconsciousness.

* * *

Light.

There was too much of it and it was blinding him painfully.

How long had he been out for? What had he missed and where was he now?

There was a dull throbbing in his head, as though he'd either hit it on the ground or someone had hit him with something hard. He raised his hand to his head and felt around for the source of the pain; nothing, just something warm and sticky beginning to clot in his hair. With a jolt he realised what it was.

Blood.

Still keeping his eyes squeezed shut to block out the offending brightness, he gingerly touched the wound again, and a shot of pain coursed through his body. He winced at the contact, and retracted his hand; there wasn't anything he could do at that point was there?

But wait, why was nobody helping him? Did no one realise that he was injured? Or was there even someone there with him?

"Oh good, you're awake," a seemingly familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.

He tried to open his eyes to see who it was, but the light hurt him again and he gave up with a groan.

"Hey, slowly does it," the voice came again, "Keep your eyes open for a little longer now, you'll get used to it some time soon."

He quickly replied with a pained grunt, but nevertheless he forced his eyes to open for a few seconds.

Finally, the searing pain subsided and he found himself staring up at the sky. A bird flew overheard, squawking wildly, and that's when he noticed the noise around him.

People talking; a horse neighing.

He tried to sit up, but his head span and he collapsed back onto whatever he'd been lying on; a sack, most likely.

"Here, take my hand," the voice came again, "You won't be able to do it yourself."

Glad for the assistance, he stuck out one of his arms blindly, and felt a strong hand grab his and pull him carefully into a sitting position.

Now that he was able to, he took a good look at whoever had been helping him, and he almost fell back down again.

Sebastian Smythe was sitting in front of him, still smirking like anything. Granted, he was rather more dirty and bloodstained than he had been previously, but he was still relatively unharmed.

"I thought you were a goner back there," Seb commented, "I'm glad you're not though."

"I'm fine," he croaked back, his voice feeling unused and completely dry. "How long was I out for?"

"Here, drink this," Seb didn't answer his question, he just handed him a flask of water, "That's all I have at the moment, and it's getting warmer out here in the sun."

"Thanks," he nodded gratefully and took a sip of the water; it tasted stale but it was better than nothing, he supposed.

"You were out for nearly five hours, I think," Sebastian continued, "I've lost track of time completely."

"It doesn't matter," he shook his head, and instantly regretted it, "I'm here now. Where's everyone else?"

Seb's smirk faltered and he looked down at the floor.

"I don't know," he said uselessly, "All I know is that we're here and they're not."

For the first time, he looked around himself. He'd seen the tents and assumed that they were in their camp again, safe and sound, but the more he looked, the more he realised that he didn't know any of the people around him.

"Seb, where are we exactly? Why aren't we in our camp?"

Seb laughed hollowly.

"We've been captured," he said, "Why do you think they didn't kill you? They wanted you for ransom."

He was bewildered.

"Why would anyone want to ransom me?" he asked, panic rising in him suddenly.

"You're our commanding officer," Seb replied, "Jeff, they'll get the best price for you."

* * *

Nick didn't know how it happened, but one moment he'd been falling face first into muddy field, the next he'd awoken in his own bed.

He was home, back in the manor house where he'd grown up. Back on the Sterlings' estate.

Jeff.

He tried to sit up, but a cool hand placed itself on his arm and restrained him.

"You must rest, Master Nicholas," a soothing voice said, "You're not strong enough to be up yet."

"I have to get up," Nick insisted, trying to shake the hand on his arm off and swing himself out of the bed.

"No, just lie back down," the voice said in the same annoying calm tone that was starting to grate on Nick's nerves.

"I don't want to lie down!" he cried angrily, "I want to get up! I have to get up!"

"You can't," the owner of the voice was now trying to force him back into bed, "Just go back to sleep now."

"Get off me!" Nick shouted, fighting blindly against the hands that held him; he didn't even know who it was. "Let me go!"

His shouts brought more footsteps into the room, and soon stronger arms were pinning his hands to his side and pushing him back into bed. He fought them as best he could, but he was too weak, and they easily overpowered him. Tears stung in his eyes and he couldn't see anything.

"Jeff!" he screamed with all his might, "I want Jeff!"

Suddenly, the hands touching him recoiled as though they'd been burnt, and there was a sudden flurry of running footsteps.

"It's happening again!" someone muttered close by him, and a nervous murmur went around the room.

All of a sudden, the door flew open and everyone fell silent.

Nick froze; had Jeff come back to him?

"Jeff?" he tried hopefully, but instead he was met with the sound of a woman sobbing. "Mother?"

* * *

Lord and Lady Duval didn't know what to do for their son.

Nick had arrived home late one night about a week ago, he hadn't been trusted with his own horse, and a nice young man named Wesley had brought him back in a borrowed farmer's cart.

The battle had done something to his mind that seemed to have left him in a fevered state of panic, every so often he would mumble the words 'Sterling' or 'Jeff' but no one could get anything comprehensible from him.

Lord Duval, upon hearing the name of his employer's eldest son, had immediately departed for the Sterlings' castle to see if he could find Jeff and bring him home to his son. Lord Duval was not stupid or blind to the obvious, and he knew that his son didn't just want his best friend, he wanted someone who meant much more to him, and the lord wasn't going to deny him that. Nick had always been his pride and joy, his only son when his other children had died, and if Jeff made Nick happy, then Lord Duval was happy as well.

Unfortunately, as soon as he mentioned Jeff's name to the manservant, who opened the door for him, he was met with a shake of the head and a recommendation that he did not come calling on the master of the house if he wished to speak about that matter.

Bewildered and filled with dread, Lord Duval had returned to speak about the matter with his wife.

Lady Duval on hearing the reaction to Jeff's name immediately assumed the worst.

"It looks as though he did not return home, dear," she told her husband, "I saw one of the servants down in the village today and it looked as though she was in mourning, I imagine the rest of the household is as well."

Lord Duval sighed heavily.

"But what do we tell Nick?" he asked.

"He has not fully awoken yet," Lady Duval said, "He frequently calls out with Jeff's name, but he does not actually regain complete consciousness."

"I should never have sent him out to fight like that," Lord Duval put his head in his hands, "It has broken him, seeing all that bloodshed, and then losing the one person who meant the most to him in the world."

Lady Duval had agreed with her husband, and had vowed to make it her personal mission to find out what had happened to Jeff; she was good friends with Jeff's mother, and a social call to give her condolences wouldn't go amiss.

* * *

"Mother?"

The sound of Nick's voice halted his mother's tears, and she looked up at her son in surprise; it was the first time that he'd remembered anyone but Jeff.

"Nicky," she whispered, reaching over and slowly taking the brunette's hands, "Nicky, it's me."

"Mother," Nick said slowly, tears rolling down his cheeks as he reached out for the comfort of his parent, and then buried his head into her shoulder, crying like a small child.

"It's alright, Nicky," Lady Duval soothed, "Everything's going to be alright."

Nick sobbed even harder, because nothing was alright, was it?

"Jeff," he faltered, "What happened to Jeff?"

His mother shook her head sadly, wrapping her arms securely around her son as he completely and utterly broke down in front of her.

"I'm so sorry," she said quietly, "I'm so sorry about Jeff, Nicky. If there was anything your father or I could do…"

Nick sniffed.

"Just leave me alone," he said, "I don't want to see anyone. Please, just go, mother."

Lady Duval was mildly taken aback, but she respected her son's wishes, and after, kissing his forehead in reassurance, she led everyone from the room. She knew why Nick had said it, he was in the heartbreaking process of grieving for someone he loved dearly, and no amount of apologies were going to help him along.

It was organised so that Nick's door was always unlocked in case he wanted to go out, but no one was allowed into his room without express permission from the lord or lady; his meals were slipped just inside the door, but they mostly went untouched, much to the worry of his mother.

"I saw him the other day," Lady Duval remarked to her husband, "He was standing at the window while I was out in the garden. Oh, he looked like a ghost just staring into the distance like that, and he hasn't been eating anything, I swear, he looked as though the slightest gust of wind would just blow him away."

Lord Duval frowned, he'd feared that this would happen; it appeared that his son had given up the will to live.

"I will send for someone who can help us," he said, after having thought for a little while.

"A doctor?" Lady Duval inquired.

Lord Duval shook his head.

"No, an old friend of Nick's."

* * *

It was the day after Nick's father sent off his messenger, that Jeff's father received one, and he immediately called for Lord Duval's council on the matter at hand.

"What is it, my lord?" Nick's father asked.

Sterling was holding in front of him a sealed letter.

"I received this today," he said, "Marked with a seal that I do not recognise." He held it out for Lord Duval to inspect, but the other man did not know it either. "I haven't opened it yet, I was wondering what you thought I should do about it."

Lord Duval paused to think, and while he was there, he took in his surroundings; the castle was almost a sea of swathes of black material, it was painfully clear that they were in mourning for their son.

"I think you should open it," he said finally, "What have you to lose by doing so?"

Sterling nodded slowly, before carefully detaching the seal and unfolding the sheet of paper. It was weather-stained, clearly having travelled a long way, and the ink appeared to have run in some places.

There was a long silence as Jeff's father read the letter to himself, and then an even longer silence as he sat down heavily in his chair and held the paper tightly in his hand without saying a word.

"My lord?" Nick's father tried quietly, and without receiving a verbal reply, the letter was just thrust into his hand for him to read.

Hurriedly, he scanned the sheet of paper, before glancing back up at his employer.

"My lord," he said in a shocked whisper, "Do you think that it is true?"

Sterling nodded.

"I recognise the signature at the bottom," he said, "I know who sent this." He paused. "Duval, they have my son."

"But they will give him back," Nick's father pointed out, "For a price, granted, but they are still willing to hand him back to you."

"But where am I supposed to find ten thousand gold coins?" Jeff's father asked, "And if I do not pay, they say that they will either double the ransom or start devaluing the prisoner, what does that even mean?"

Nick's father started in shock, and coughed suddenly.

"My lord," he said, "I believe that means that they will start, er, deliberately hurting your son."

Sterling fumed in anger.

"What has happened to their honour?" he cried, "Where has the unspoken knight's code gone? Everyone knows that the knights being held are expected to be in reasonable comfort, it's the done thing, and it gets them more money if they are unhurt."

Lord Duval ducked his head.

"I guess that you have found an adversary who does not care for the comfort of his prisoners," he said, "I imagine that he wants the money as soon as possible, maybe to pay the ransom on his own knights."

Sterling did not appear to hear him.

"I will have my son back," he said forcefully, "But where on this Earth am I supposed to find the money that they want?"

"I have some put aside, my lord," Nick's father suggested quickly, "It is not much, but it will all help, and I'm sure that the other lords on your estate will be willing to contribute. Your son was well loved in these parts, and no one would want to see him harmed, I'm sure."

He prayed with all his might that his idea would be accepted and would prove to be successful. He would never forgive himself if their chance to save Jeff and bring him home to Nick failed and Jeff was hurt through their actions.

"I will send out a messenger to everyone I can," Sterling spoke, immediately beginning to write out notes for each lord who was to be involved. "And I shall write to the King, my son served him loyally, and no doubt he will be able to help us pay the ransom for him."

"Very good, my lord," Nick's father said, before taking his leave of the Sterlings and their castle.

* * *

"Do we tell Nick?" Lady Duval asked as soon as she heard the good news about Jeff, but much to her surprise, her husband shook his head.

"We can't get his hopes up, only for them to be dashed if we cannot raise enough money," he said, "That would break him completely."

"He's already broken!" Lady Duval argued, "I wouldn't be surprised if he was half-dead already, what's the harm in giving him a little hope? Something to live for!"

"We can't risk it," Lord Duval insisted, "We will discuss it later when Nick's friend arrives."

* * *

When Nick's friend did arrive, he accepted the lord's decision with a tight-lipped smile, he could understand where he was coming from, but from the sounds of it, Nick was slowly fading away into nothingness with no hope of ever recovering.

"Nick?" he tapped softly on the brunette's door, but heard no reply from the other side. "Nick?" he tried again, "Nick, it's Wes, please let me in."

"Go away," came the answer, but the voice sounded so weak that Wes threw the door open immediately.

The sight in front of him almost knocked him over in shock, and Wesley Montgomery was not shocked easily.

Nick was sat huddled on his bed, the sheets strewn across the floor and around him where he'd clearly thrown them at some point. The window was wide open and a cold winter's breeze was blowing through them, it was enough to chill anyone to the point of becoming ill. In the corner was a discarded tray of food, clearly having not been touched at all.

But it was the sight of Nick himself that made Wes feel almost nauseous. The brunette was far too thin to be healthy, he'd clearly half starved himself, and he looked haggard and close to death. There were dark circles under his eyes from a lack of sleep, and his eyes themselves had lost the sparkle that they'd always had before. And then there was his smile; Nick had been known by everyone as someone who could be guaranteed to be smiling at any point, no matter what the situation, but now it looked as though the mere act of showing any sort of emotion exhausted him.

"Oh, Nick," Wes said softly, pulling up a chair next to his friend's bed and regarding him sadly.

The brunette looked at him, and it seemed to take a while for faint recognition to show in his eyes.

"What happened to you, Nick?" Wes asked, all though he already knew the answer.

"Jeff," Nick whispered hoarsely, "Jeff left me."

"You know that he didn't leave you," Wes said calmly, "What was the last thing he told you?"

Nick sniffed a little at the memory, before speaking.

"He said that he'd love me forever," he said quietly.

Wes nodded.

"And he always will love you," he said, "Forever. Even if he's not here with you, it doesn't mean that he's not still loving you and looking after you."

"Do you really think so?" Nick asked.

Wes paused a little as he thought about what Nick's father had told him.

"I know so," he said eventually.

"How do you know?"

"I just do," Wes smiled, "It's obvious."

Nick sat in silence for a little while, contemplating what Wes had said.

"What do I do, Wes?" he asked finally, "I don't know what to do anymore."

"You could start by eating something," Wes said, going over to the food in the corner, and picking up a slice of bread, "You're far too thin as it is."

Nick shook his head.

"I can't eat," he said adamantly, "I feel sick every time I try."

Wes frowned.

"Jeff wouldn't want you hurting yourself like this," he said, "He'd want you to eat."

"Please, Wes," Nick protested weakly, but his friend was too insistent, and he made sure that he ate every last crumb of the bread.

"Now, when was the last time that you had a full night of sleep?" Wes pressed on with other issues that needed addressing.

Nick's eyes widened in fear at this.

"I don't sleep," he said, "I can't sleep. Whenever I close my eyes I have nightmares of the day it happened, and I can't make them go away. Wes, please, I want them to go away."

Wes looked at his friend pitifully; the brunette was just so broken.

"Only you can make them go away, Nick," he said firmly, "You need to get on with your life and make new memories to replace the bad ones."

"I can't, Wes," Nick shook his head vehemently, "I can't get on with my life. I can't get over Jeff, and I never will; I can't live without him."

"I didn't say that you did have to get over him," Wes said soothingly, "But you have to get on with your life, you have to leave this room and see your parents, they are worried sick about you, Nick."

Nick looked down at his sheets, tears threatening to fall again at the thought of his mother and father, he hadn't seen either of them in nearly a month, for every time they appeared, he told them to go away.

"I want to see them, Wes," he decided, "I want to go downstairs and see them."

Wes smiled.

"Good," he said, "That's a good idea."

* * *

And so, Nick went downstairs for the first time since he'd arrived home after the battle, and he sat with his parents for hours on end.

And every day after that, Wes would visit, and he would bring Nick down to see Lord and Lady Duval, for the brunette was far too weak to walk by himself.

Over time, Nick began to get himself out of his room and down the stairs without help, and he would surprise his mother by walking up behind her, the joy on her face was plain to see every day that her son got stronger and stronger.

He still wasn't completely well again. He'd still sometimes wake up in the middle of the night screaming and shouting something unintelligible, and his appetite had only recovered slightly.

But the dark circles under his eyes were almost gone and he'd started to regain the familiar sparkle in his brown eyes.

It was just his smile that needed to come back, he'd half-heartedly try whenever he was happy about something, but he'd never once smiled in the same way that he'd done previously.

It was the middle of spring when Nick finally decided that he wanted to be taken outside and to see the garden again. Reluctantly, his parents and Wes gave him permission, for they all thought that he was still too frail to sit out where it would be cold, but Nick was determined to see the world a little bit more.

Wrapped in around a dozen or so blankets, he was half-carried out to a seat in the small manor garden by Wes, and he sat there for a few hours, just staring at all the plants in front of him; he'd forgotten how beautiful the garden looked in the springtime.

"Maybe he's finally going to forget about everything that happened when he went away," Lord Duval remarked to Wes one day.

But Wes just shook his head.

"It's not something that you can just forget about," he said, "It's just something that you learn to cope with."

"Do you think he's coping?" the lord asked.

"I think he's starting to," Wes said, "But who can truly tell? In a week or so, he may relapse again."

Lord Duval nodded sadly.

"We still need more funds for the ransom," he commented absently, "I don't know whether we'll reach the target soon."

"Will you tell him what you're doing?" Wes asked, motioning towards where Nick sat outside, swinging his feet aimlessly on the bench. "He still thinks Jeff is dead, you know."

Nick's father sighed.

"I want to tell him," he said, "I hate keeping him in the dark, but what if I tell him and we can't raise the money in time? It'll be the last blow for him."

"Alright," Wes nodded, "I wish you luck then, sir."

* * *

"Do you think my father is doing what they want?" Jeff asked Sebastian, who was sitting next to him.

"They haven't tried to kill you yet, so I imagine so," Seb replied dryly.

Jeff nodded, he knew that he should have been grateful at that point; he'd seen another knight slowly tortured and then killed when his family couldn't keep up with the ransom payment. Both he and Sebastian had been extraordinarily lucky, their fathers both seemed willing to pay for them immediately.

"Do you think that Nick knows where I am?" the blonde asked softly. He rarely spoke of Nick anymore, he tried not to bring up all those feelings that made him feel so alone and heartbroken; what he wouldn't give to hold Nick one more time.

Sebastian smiled sadly.

"Does it matter?" he said, "You'll always be in his heart, and he's in yours; you'll be together forever, even if it's not physically."

Jeff was silent, and he had to hold back his tears.

"Who knew that you were such a romantic, Smythe?" he laughed half-heartedly.

Seb smirked, but it lacked any of his usual energy.

"You know, even after all this time, I never asked who it was that you were in love with," Jeff continued, "So, go on, spill it!"

Seb shook his head.

"I doubt he even remembers me," he said, "It's been far too long."

"It's only been a few months," Jeff insisted, "Six at most. He'll remember you, and anyway, Sebastian Smythe is kind of hard to forget. Come on, Seb, tell me who it is."

Sebastian eventually relented, and he leant over to whisper a name into Jeff's ear. Jeff's eyes went wide and he gasped.

"Really?" he asked, "Well, I'd never have picked _him_!"

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Seb asked, narrowing his eyes at Jeff.

"Neither, I just wasn't expecting it," the blonde defended himself, "Well, I can tell you that he definitely won't have forgotten you, he's the most loyal person I've ever met."

There was a silence between them.

"Do you think he's still alive?" Sebastian asked suddenly.

"Yes," Jeff said instantly, "He was one of the best soldiers I'd ever met; if anyone has survived the horror of the battle, then it's him!"

Sebastian smiled.

"When I get out of here, I'm going to find him," he said determinedly, "It's going to be the first thing that I do, and I'm going to tell him how I feel."

"Good," Jeff said, "Good for you."

Their conversation was suddenly terminated by the appearance of a man in chain mail, who grunted at them and aimed a kick at their sides to get them to stand up.

As they were being led away, Jeff muttered to himself:

"I'm going to find Nick, even if it's the last thing that I do."

* * *

It was the first few days of summer when Lord and Lady Duval were suddenly summoned by the Sterlings to accompany them to visit the king's court. They were reluctant to leave Nick in the manor by himself for a few days, but after being reassured by Wes that he would visit everyday, and that the servants would keep an eye on the young man, they departed in the company of Jeff's parents.

Nick had been slowly getting better, so much so that one day Wes even felt comfortable to leave him alone for the entire day while he was busy with other affairs.

It was that particular day that Nick decided that he would sit outside and enjoy the fresh air and blooming flowers in the garden.

He'd been sitting down, still wrapped in swathes of blankets, for around an hour when there was a sudden clamour out in the front yard, and the echoes of horse hooves rang on the cobbled stones.

Surely it couldn't be his parents home so soon? No, it was only one horse. Could it be Wes? No, he never arrived on horseback, he always walked.

It must have been someone else.

Slowly, Nick rose, taking one blanket and fastening it around himself, before going around the side of the manor to greet whoever it was.

Out in the yard, the visitor was dismounting from their horse, and from behind, Nick could only see the back of his cloaked head. He was tall and male, but that was all the brunette could work out.

"Excuse me?" Nick asked cautiously, "Can I help you?"

The stranger stopped what they were doing immediately, and slowly turned towards Nick.

As his features were suddenly revealed, Nick felt his legs give way beneath him, and with a strangled cry, he collapsed onto the floor in a heap. The other man was by his side in an instant, slipping an arm around him and helping him to his feet.

"You're not real," the brunette whispered hoarsely, "You're dead." He reached up with one hand and stroked the visitor's cheek softly.

"No, I'm here," the other man said, "I'm here with you."

His hood fell back, his bright blonde hair had grown longer in the passing months, but it still fell in his face, the way it had always done.

"I'm back, Nicky," he said, "And I'm never leaving you again."

Nick buried his face in the man's chest, his tears soaking the fabric of his surcoat.

"You better not," the brunette said forcefully, "I can't live without you."

Jeff smiled.

"I love you," he said, lifting Nick's face so that he was looking in his eyes. "I've loved you all this time, Nicky."

"I love you too," Nick sobbed, "I thought you were dead, but I've always loved you."

Jeff helped the brunette back into the garden, and they sat down together on the bench, where Nick proceeded to tearfully recount the struggle he'd had in the past few months when he'd thought that Jeff had died. While Jeff told Nick about his capture and how he'd been waiting for his father to pay the ransom for him, before he could be released and sent home.

Then Jeff turned to other issues.

"What about the others?" he asked nervously, "Did anyone else survive?"

Nick paused and bowed his head for a moment.

"Wes comes over to look after me every day," he said, "And Hunter's got your position now, he refused at first, because he thought it would be disrespectful to your memory, but then he was convinced that he should take it. Thad got out completely unhurt as well, for the archers found high ground at the beginning of the battle, and shot anyone who tried to get near them."

"And the squires?" Jeff asked, and he immediately knew that he shouldn't have done.

Nick was silent for a few minutes, before speaking.

"Blaine was killed in one of the first charges," he said, "Kurt died later by his side; they were found afterwards lying together. I'm so sorry about David, but he died of his wounds a few days after the battle, I never saw him though, I wish I had."

"And Trent?"

Nick managed a weak smile.

"He lost a few fingers," he said, "And some dignity, but he's still alive; he lives just down the lane from here."

If the rest of the news had been better, Jeff would have laughed, but instead he just nodded solemnly.

"I should probably report that Sebastian's safe and sound," he said, "He got captured as well, and we left together. He's gone to find his one true love."

Nick smiled suddenly, a genuine smile, one of his famous smiles that he hadn't smiled in many months.

"I have my one true love back again," he said quietly, "I have you again."

Jeff leaned forward and gave him a tender kiss, before pulling back and resting his forehead on Nick's own.

"You have me again," he repeated, "And I have you."

There was a pause before they spoke together.

"_Forever_."

_**FIN**_

* * *

**A/N: So, when I said it wasn't too bad...it wasn't, right? Oh, what have I done? I apologise for the deaths of Klaine and David (and the injuring of Trent), it was nothing personal to those characters, they were just the only ones I had left to make it slightly sadder...I mean, I tried to make the Klaine bit a little better, I guess?**

**Also, you get to choose who it was that you think Sebastian fell in love with, and insert your own happy or unhappy ending in for him :)**

**Thank you for reading, and please leave a review to tell me what you thought :)**


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